


A Few Adjustments to the Program

by moovelope



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, M/M, dog park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moovelope/pseuds/moovelope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before I get to the news for today listeners, I have an announcement concerning the show.  Cecil, our beloved and feared host, has left a message for you all.  He says he is taking an extended trip and wrote to tell his loved ones he loved them and not to expect him any time soon. Or ever.  That man has been working so hard, he definitely deserves the time off!  I'll be filling in for him for the foreseeable future, and in some cases, the unforeseeable future.  Now, the news."</p>
<p>(Written pre-episode 30 where Dana escapes the Dog Park.  So, very not canon.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Few Adjustments to the Program

Carlos packed away the last of his equipment on their designated shelves, shoving them in with a bit more force than necessary. His plan to examine the public pool of Night Vale had fell through, since according to several citizens he asked it hadn't existed in years. This was despite the fact that advertisements for the pool had been up on every telephone pole and on everyone's ceiling since the start of the month. He had decided to check it out after trying and failing to remove the poster proclaiming "Get Out of the Sun and Bloodbath, Swim at the Night Vale Community Pool! Children Under Five Will be Sacrificed to the Pool's Resident Kraken Located Conveniently at the Deep End".

Far too many things in Night Vale didn't exist when they logically should. And, for that matter, there were far too many things that did exist in Night Vale that really shouldn't. Carlos ran a rough hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew. What he needed for the night was to relax, and let go of the failed experiment. He shucked off his professional lab coat and slipped on his bathrobe which looked like a lab coat. He liked to stay casual around the house. He checked his watch before he slipped it off. It was nearly eight thirty, he could catch Cecil's show for the night.

Usually Carlos was too busy or exhausted to listen to his boyfriend's radio program, which he felt rather guilty about. Cecil put his heart and soul into the show (not literally, he hoped). He admitted this to Cecil when they first began to go out, and was assured that it was fine; really, he didn't get to see all of the amazing scientific work that Carlos got up to so it was a fair trade.

This eased Carlos' mind somewhat, as he listened on and off for the around four months they had been dating. He only remembered four months, yet Cecil reminded him that everyone's memories of October had been wiped, so he supposed it was five.

He sat down in the kitchen (the only space in his home converted to lab that wasn't packed full of science equipment) and turned on his portable radio. He performed the usual fiddling of the dials and password chanting to get the right station. He nearly jumped out of his skin when wild, ear rendering shrieks poured out of the radio. He turned it down to a bearable amount; he still had a few minutes before Cecil's show began. The block before, and after his show usually changed themes, the last time Carlos had caught one it was solemn chanting begging the Gods, or city council, to deliver Pizza to the station. It had been rather relaxing to listen to.

Carlos thought of a past experiment as the shrieks played on faintly. Cecil's ability to report the news, from nearly anywhere, exactly as it was happening was incredible, and confusing. Carlos had attempted to discover if Cecil could only do this while doing his show, or if he was omnipotent every second of the day. The second idea unnerved him somewhat, but he figured there were worse things in Night Vale, he would rather have Cecil keeping an eye on him 24/7 than have to confront a librarian, or experience Valentine's Day anytime soon. His experiment was inconclusive, though he believed Cecil only knew what was going on as he reported. Except for that one time he was over at Cecil's apartment and he suddenly laughed and muttered "Oh that old woman Josie, who does she think she's fooling?" with no explanation.

Carlos was pulled from his thoughts as the music for Cecil's show caught his attention. He turned the volume back up, just in time to hear-

"To the north lies pain, to the south lies pain, to the east lies pain, to the west lies The Arby's. Welcome to Night Vale," a woman's soft voice said. The theme music continued to play as Carlos sat rigid in his seat.

Cecil never missed a show. Ever, as far as Carlos knew. And, if he was going to take a night off, surely he would have told him. What was even happening?

"Before I get to the news for today listeners, I have an announcement concerning the show. Cecil, our beloved and feared host, has left a message for you all. He says he is taking an extended trip and wrote to tell his loved ones he loved them and not to expect him any time soon. Or ever. That man has been working so hard, he definitely deserves the time off! I'll be filling in for him for the foreseeable future, and in some cases, the unforeseeable future. Now, the news."

Carlos stopped listening as he hastily grabbed his phone and attempted to contact Cecil. He tried to call several times yet he only was sent to voicemail.

"Sorry I can't answer right now! But why are you calling me? What makes you think you have that right? You foul, loathsome creature, I'll never answer you. Unless this is Carlos! In that case leave a message!" The phone dinged for the third time.

"-and after all that, she still wasn't able to wrestle her legs away from the alligator. Our hearts go out to you Beatrice, and your lost limbs. But hey! Think on the bright side! At least the alligator is full," the voice poured out of the radio, cheerful as one could be.

Carlos paced the small kitchen. He wasn't a naive man, nor was he stupid. He _knew_ people disappeared left and right in this town. Cecil could have been taken by the Sheriff's secret police, or been captured by one of the hooded figures. Hell, one of the boy scouts might have gunned him down. Night Vale was no stranger to mysterious deaths and vanishing people. In fact, they had more of a “friends with benefits” relationship status, if Mysteries and Night Vale had Facebook accounts. They did not. More likely than not Cecil was gone.

Yet, Carlos had to hold on to some form of hope. There could be a chance that the man was still alive, and Carlos wasn't going to let it slip through his fingers.

He grabbed his keys from their ring and rushed out the door. The radio continued to play behind him.

"-and thanks to old woman Josie for that lovely message on the happenings of her angels. They must look cute in those hats you made for them! City council would also like to reiterate that angels do not exist and that it is a crime to know anything about them. And now, a word from our sponsors."

Speeding in his truck, he skirted past the blood oak that was growing in the middle of Main Street and towards the radio tower in the distance. As he drove Carlos tuned his radio to the show, listening to the unfamiliar woman on the other end. He had been to the radio station dozens of times with Cecil and had met most of the interns, yet he didn't recognize her voice. Considering how fast the station _went_ through interns, though, it was likely that he had yet to meet this one. She had to be an intern, right? To take Cecil's place?

The radio station’s parking lot was near empty as he sped in. He turned his truck off and jumped out right as the weather began to play. Carlos shimmied the back door open (as Cecil showed him one time on a particularly memorable date) and made his way towards the recording booth (making sure to crawl past station management's door). Through the window for the booth he saw a young woman bobbing her head to the weather playing on the station. Her curly hair bounced back and forth along with it. He rapped on the window to get her attention.

Her eyes shot open and she glared at him, her eyes pure black and terrifying. Carlos swallowed. Well this was going to be interesting. She poked her head out of the door and shot him another glare. Carlos became painfully aware that he was still wearing his bathrobe and pajamas.

"You have four minutes and 38 seconds. What?" she asked flatly, far from the bubbly tones she used on the air waves.

"You, earlier you said Cecil left a note for when he. When he left. I need to see it."

"Oh you _need_ to see it, huh? Life or death situation is it?" she asked petulantly.

"Isn't it always in Night Vale?"

She actually grinned at that, and Carlos wished she hadn't. Her teeth were far too long and pointed to actually fit in her mouth, yet they did. She went back to the booth for a moment, returning with the note.

Carlos took it gingerly. "This is just a piece of paper soaked in blood," he said faintly. She shrugged.

"I paraphrased a bit. It's not the first time we've lost a host with nothing but a bloody something or other left behind."

Feeling sick, Carlos leaned heavily against the wall.

"So, so you have no idea what happened to him?" he asked. She seemed to think about it for a moment.

"I don't think the city council was too happy with his last broadcast. The sheriff's secret police might have picked him up. Station management has also been...active recently."

Carlos rubbed his hands down his face. He hadn't listened to Cecil's last radio show, and didn't know what he had said. God, he might have missed his last show _ever_ for that matter. He looked hesitantly over to the frightening woman who was his replacement. She could have done away with Cecil as easily as any other thing in Night Vale.

"I…thanks I suppose. I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name?" he said.

She was looking distractedly towards the recording booth, where the weather was winding down. "I suppose you're welcome then. And I'm Dana. Now excuse me I have to continue with the show. And be aware, the next time you break into the station I _will_ inform station management," she said darkly before heading back into the booth.

Heart pounding, Carlos willed his legs to carry him out of the station. He got into his truck and took a few deep breaths. It had been a few weeks ago, but he still remembered. Cecil had been telling him about the past interns over a lunch date.

_“—and then there was Dana, who was intern for three weeks I think!" Cecil had rambled._

_The sheer amount of interns that the radio station went through was astounding, and listening to their grisly deaths only made Carlos wonder how they had space enough in the break room. Rather callus, but one had to be in Night Vale._

_"Now Dana, she was here when the sandstorm came,” Cecil continued. “She killed her double outside the recording booth...or her double killed her, never did find out! Anyway, Dana or her double got locked into the dog park."_

_"A death I wouldn't wish onto anyone," Carlos said. Cecil shot him a look._

_"Oh no, she's still alive! I mean she hasn't texted me for a while, and the last time she did it was in ancient runes that set my phone on fire and left the taste of mustard on my tongue for days," he said. He scrunched his face up in disgust, "I hate mustard."_

_"So some interns do make it out alive?" Carlos asked, smiling. Cecil looked a bit guilty._

_"Some do survive! Just. Not most. It's the danger one must accept in the line of journalistic duty," he explained. Carlos laughed and kissed him._

_"Alright, alright who came after Dana?"_

Dana, or her double, was supposed to be locked up in the dog park sans demonic traits. Yet, she had somehow escaped and was commandeering the radio show. Carlos rested his head on the steering wheel and took some more deep breaths. There was only one thing to do, examine the dog park.

No one usually drove past the Dog Park in the middle of the day, let alone at night. Carlos' headlights cut painfully into the dark of the night, illuminating the tall, opaque fence that surrounded the park. He left the keys in the truck, in case he needed to get away fast, and approached the gate. It was closed with a simple padlock, anyone with some lock picking skills would have no issue getting it open. Carlos, however, lacked these skills.

"Dammit," he muttered, shaking the lock petulantly. The door shook back violently, making Carlos jump in surprise. A glowing triangle appeared on the door.

"YOU HAVE THREE GUESSES. IF YOU DO NOT GUESS CORRECTLY YOU WILL PERISH. PASSWORD?" the triangle uttered. Carlos let out a shaky breath, knees nearly giving out.

"Password, how-how the hell am I supposed to know the password to the damn forbidden dog park?" he said faintly. The triangle was impassive.

"I don't even know if Cecil is _in_ there, I could be trying to open up the fount of all evil here. What if Cecil's actually dead and I'm just messing things up even more?" he said, kneading his hands together. "And you, mystic triangle or whatever, you don't even ask for the password _to_ the dog park, you just ask for a password. Could it be any password? Here, the password to my laptop is carlito1974, how about that?" He sounded only slightly hysterical.

The triangle blinked green. "PASSWORD: CORRECT."

The doors swung inward as the triangle disappeared. The stone monolith appeared in the distance, and several hooded figures inside swiveled their heads towards the exit.

"You have got to be kidding me," Carlos muttered. A head peaked around the door before he could get any further into doubting the sanity of the town and himself.

"Oh, Carlos! I didn't expect to see you here at all!" Cecil said, walking out of the dog park. He looked healthy, no scorch marks on him or anything. Cecil paused and turned around for a moment. "Talk to you later!" He waved at one of the hooded figures. It waved back.

The doors closed behind Cecil as he exited. They let out a blood curdling screech as they shut. Carlos' mouth had long since fallen open; he nearly was knocked over when Cecil hugged him.

"Carlos, you will not _believe_ how wonderful the dog park is. The hooded figures are so _interesting_ once you get to know them, I mean, you can't look them directly in the face at all or you'll lose all sense of yourself and reality, but hey! The man with the tan jacket was there also, we had such wonderful conversations as well about- well, I cannot remember right now, but I'll think about it. What a lovely park, other than the forced cannibalism of the human survivors."

Carlos disentangled himself from Cecil's arms, only to grab ahold of his face and kiss him senseless. Cecil reciprocated with enthusiasm.

"Gee, I'll talk about the dog park more often if this is—"

"I thought you were dead," Carlos muttered into Cecil's neck. "You could have been dead, and I missed your last radio show."

"Oh. Oh I'm sorry for scaring you like that. No hey, chin up, I'm fine. Intern Dana got a hold of me earlier today, she wanted to try her hand at hosting the show and just got enough street cred with the hooded figures to be let out for a day. We were going to switch back tomorrow!”

Carlos pulled away from Cecil, “Well I don’t think Dana’s on the same page as you. When I talked to her she made it sound like you weren’t coming back. Ever.”

Cecil snorted, “Oh, she’s such a kidder. Come on, let’s get back to the station so we can congratulate her on the show!” The man then bounded towards the truck, not waiting for Carlos to follow.

Carlos sighed. He was glad to have found Cecil (even if he wanted to collapse in tears for a little bit at the unnecessary stress of the past few hours). He wasn’t looking forward to bargaining with, or beating, Intern Dana on top of everything, but he knew that he was going to anyway. He’d learned a while ago that he’d do just about anything for his boyfriend. As he hopped into the truck he took Cecil’s hand.

“Glad to have you back,” he said, revving up the engine and thinking of ways to take down a possessed intern.


End file.
